Irene
by TheDodoBird
Summary: A long bit I wrote after the first season of Sherlock - just an idea of Irene Adler. I pictured her as a computer hacker ... no idea why. Enjoy the silliness and I apologize for the rusty writing!


_**This is an odd little piece I wrote way back when 'Sherlock' first aired. It's not at all a polished piece, just a rusty little drabble. I thought it couldn't hurt, though, to put it up on here. I sort of liked my little Irene. There won't be more to this - I'm quite content with this little snippet (though I'll apologize again for the quality).**_

* * *

><p>It was late – but always the best time to work. Stirring the curry noodles she had just heated up, Irene Adler sat back at her desk, reading the code that was coming across her computer. In about five minutes, she thought, she'd have complete access to Oxford University's –<p>

"No!" Irene almost dropped the cup as her screen went blank. "No! Oh, no no no!" she shouted, frantically typing as the code began to backtrack on itself and disappear. "Don't you even try!" She bit her lip and pushed up her glasses. "Come on … come on! Shit!" Irene hit the keyboard with both hands as her screen went blank. "Fuck …"

Her forehead hit the edge of her computer, reddish curls bouncing against the back of her head, tied up with a hair band. Sluggishly, she got out of her chair and shuffled to the bathroom in her nightshirt and shorts. Splashing cold water on her face, she cursed a few more times.

"I'm going to fail now … shit …"

Returning to her computer, she sat down with a huff, but was startled by it suddenly coming back to life – the small, flashing line waiting for text. Irene went to hit a key – just to test it – but it responded before she could:

_Maybe you should have studied_, the screen said.

Irene pulled off her glasses.

_Don't look so surprised_, the screen continued. _You're not the only hacker in the world, Irene Adler._

"What the …" Irene slipped her glasses back on. Her finger's hovered over the keyboard. "Who are you?" she muttered as she typed the same phrase.

_There's a car downstairs. Get in it._

Irene laughed to herself. "No way," she said – but didn't type.

_There isn't a choice. Get in the car or you will be shot_.

Irene's face paled. She turned towards her window, just catching the red laser shooting through it, directly hitting her forehead.

In seconds she was moving, she pulled on shoes and a coat, grabbed her keys and ran out the door. She moment she had made it out of her building, she was grabbed before she could scream.

* * *

><p>Something had hit her on the head. No. Someone had pressed something to her nose that was making her feel like she had been hit on the head. Well, at least she wasn't tied up. No, she was laying on … a sofa maybe? She was short so laying on a sofa wouldn't be uncomfortable. She slowly stretched her toes to see if she could feel –<p>

"Irene Adler."

The voice made her eyes fly open.

"Well, certainly not what I was expecting."

Before her was a man. A peculiar man. He sat in an armchair, watching as she pushed herself up. Her sneered a little at her sudden decency, pulling her bunched up shorts down.

"Oh, don't worry about that, darling. I'm not interested."

Irene paused. "What … what are you interested in then?"

"As I said," he stood. "You're certainly not what I was expecting."

Irene looked around her. She was in a warehouse. The sofa and chair were extremely out of place but obviously this man wanted to keep their location a secret as best he could.

He held out a picture to Irene, who couldn't help but laugh some when she saw it.

"Photoshop," she said, handing it back. "I don't reveal my identity online. Obviously."

"Yes. Obviously. Of course, the woman in this photograph is far more attractive, which one would assume would come in handy in your line of work."

"I thought you weren't interested –"

"I'm not. It's just an observation."

"Who are you? And how do you know who I am?"

"You're relatively easy to find, Miss Adler, despite what the authorities may think. MI-5. The FBI. Impressive. They can't find a trace of your little ghost, but somehow I managed to find you … hacking into a professor's home computer? Part of your doctoral program?"

Irene didn't answer.

"Aren't you going to ask me how? Come on – indulge me a little!"

Irene blinked tears from her eyes. "How?"

"I'm not the only one keeping tabs on you. You have a friend, don't you? This is the fun part! Play along! Who's your friend? Probably your only friend, who knows the real face behind the picture – but still has the picture to remind him … ah! You're catching on! Come on! Give me an answer!"

"He's not so much a friend. And I didn't know he was watching me."

"What's his name? Come on, darling! Say it!"

Irene wiped her eyes and whispered, "Sherlock Holmes."

The man clapped his hands together excitedly. "Precisely! Yes!"

"What's he told you?"

"Why would he tell me anything? He hasn't told a soul about you! But – how did I get this picture? And how do I know about you – ah! That is the question still, isn't it?"

"I don't like playing games like this."

"Oh, I know. Believe me I know. But here's how it's going to go. Are you listening? Sherlock knows you are in England, but not Oxford. He wasn't about to secure your alias – you covered your tracks too well. He could have figured it out but knew you wanted to be left alone. So, if you disappeared, he wouldn't notice unless he was looking for you. I could kill you now and you'd only be a name in the news – if your body is even found. So you're going to work for me – do you understand? No payment – consider me keeping you alive payment enough, all right?"

"What –"

"I'm still talking!" he said in a ringing voice. "What you're going to do is what you do best. You're going to hack into his computer. You're going to hack into his friend Watson's computer. Every computer – and turn their cameras on."

"They don't have cameras."

"Hm?"

Irene covered her mouth – she had said too much.

"They don't have cameras?" the man repeated. "You've already … hah! You're better than I thought. Cleverer, too, which must drive him absolutely mad. All right. No cameras. You'll have to plant them … but he'll know if someone has been in the flat. Which means … you'll be paying your old friend a visit! How lovely!"

"Who says I will? And why do you need cameras –"

"No questions!"

Suddenly, Irene felt something cold press against the side of her head. A gun. Her breath caught.

"You'll plant the cameras and wait for further instruction from me. I won't ask if that's … 'all right' with you. I already know it is. Or you won't be breathing in the … next … moment …"

* * *

><p>"And where's John?" Mrs. Hudson asked as Sherlock came through the front door of 221B Baker Street.<p>

"Sarah. With Sarah," Sherlock clarified.

"Just you, is it? Are you having another domestic –"

"No."

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock leaned over the stair rail. "What, Mrs. Hudson?"

"There was a young lady here looking for you earlier."

"And?"

"I thought you might be expecting her? She looked disappointed when I said you weren't in, but she said she'd try again later. Are you expecting –"

Sherlock dashed out of Mrs. Hudson's view and rant to his apartment door. He went into his pocket for the keys but the moment he found them, he found the door was already unlocked.

"Knew it would be," he muttered. Stepping inside, he looked around. He shut the door gently and slowly took off his gloves. "I know you're here," he called out. "Did you really have to pick the lock? I would have let you in."

"Keeping up appearances."

"For who?" Sherlock rounded the corner and found Irene sitting at his kitchen table, typing away on John's computer.

"I'm being watched."

"By who this time?"

"Someone who isn't your fan." Irene finally looked at Sherlock. "Or … who is your fan and is very very dangerous."

"He didn't give you a name, I'm assuming?"

Irene shook her head. "But I've been through this John's computer and this Moriarty character … dead on."

Sherlock froze.

"What? Who is he?"

"No one. But very dangerous." Sherlock walked towards her and shut the computer. "What are you doing?"

"You won't believe me if I tell you."

"I will because I can tell you're afraid."

"How?"

"When I came into the apartment, I could hear you typing. Your usual speed is close to 200 words a minute, if I recall correctly, but you were typing at perhaps 100 words – maybe less. Your job picking the lock was sloppy – you knew you were being watched, yes, but whoever was watching you was making you lose your nerve. You aren't normally that shaky. When I turned the corner, you flinched even though you knew it was me. Your eyes – just for a moment – flashed over. You wouldn't have done that if you weren't nervous about every sound you hear. Not to mention the lack of color in your face, the fact you haven't eaten in … oh, at least a day? And your wardrobe is wrinkled but clean. You showered and put clothes on from a suitcase you packed in a rush. Your hair is still wet."

Irene scratched her ear. "I can never tell if I like when you do that – or if I hate it."

Sherlock smiled a little. "What were you doing to John's computer?"

"This man of yours – the scary one – wants me to plant cameras on your computers …"

"And?"

"I did. Not to mention a massive load of anti-me software. As for the cameras – since you and your flatmate were gone – I recorded two hours of footage that should play on loop in the feed for the camera, which I've already disabled so even if you enabled it, it wouldn't work. Take it apart if you don't believe me."

"I believe you."

Irene smiled.

"What I don't understand is why you're not taking his offer? He must have offered you money."

"Not money. No – he threatened me. It's nothing I haven't dealt with –"

"He's different, Irene. You need to tread carefully."

"I always do."

"Not in cyberspace. I don't think … I don't think you could trick him."

"I could trick you."

Sherlock was quiet again.

"You have my picture. He told me."

"As a reminder."

"A reminder?"

"Things are not always as they seem. Especially with you."

"Is that a roundabout way of saying you don't trust me still?"

"It's a round about way of saying that I value your mind. And that I want to be reminded of my mistakes. As for now – if Moriarty is the man that's threatening you – I have to trust you. Irene Adler is not easily frightened."

"Here I thought it may be sentimental. Oh, I have a question."

"How did I know you were in England? He mentioned that, didn't he?"

Irene nodded. "But that isn't it. Why didn't you go as far as to figure out I was in Oxford?"

"I knew you were in Oxford. I knew you were in a doctoral program. He didn't. Irene, I keep tabs on you."

"Well, he thinks you only know that I'm in England. That you afforded me some privacy by not tracing me to Oxford – which I knew couldn't be true. Seems verified."

"How long will you be here?"

Irene sighed. "I thought I'd stay here for a few days, if that's all right. It will give him the appearance of me doing what he asked. And I could keep an eye on the feed. Make sure there aren't any kinks. You have a sofa."

"My sofa."

"I brought my pillow."

"Good for you."

"I'm staying, Sherlock. You wouldn't put me in protected custody, would you?"

Again, Sherlock was quiet. Irene slid off the chair and shut the computer. She walked to Sherlock – only coming to just under his shoulder – and leaned on the doorway.

"Didn't think so. I'm too much of a challenge. You'll have to introduce me to John. I've been very much a fan of his blog."

"Shut up."

Irene smiled. "Oh – you missed me." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "We could always bunk together."

"Take the sofa."

"I was never good at flirting." Irene walked past him and pulled her overnight bag from under the sofa, where she had stuffed it. "I took the liberty and did some shopping for you. I filled the pantry."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and opened the fridge. "You didn't move anything, did you?"

"Of course not. I know better."

"What sort of cameras?"

"Hm?"

"What type of camera are you supposed to be installing?"

"I wasn't given a specific type so … easily enough, I bought those awful little circle ones. They bugger out all the time."

"Bugger? How long have you been in England?"

"Funny. But – long enough, I think, sometimes."

"You should go."

"Hm?"

"You should go. If they saw you break in, they'll expect you to sneak out soon after I've come in. Keep your rouse."

* * *

><p>John walked into the flat and looked around. Sherlock was sitting, unmoving, in a chair – lost in thought completely. It was then John noticed the strange pillow on the sofa.<p>

"Did … did someone visit?"

"Yes. What? No."

"No? Who's pillow's that?"

Sherlock didn't answer at first. Then he said, "The woman."

"The woman? What? Who –"

"You'll meet her. She's visiting."

"But I thought –"

"Present tense, John. She's staying. She hasn't left yet." Sherlock got out of his chair and went to the window.

"But who is she?" John asked.

"Irene Adler."

"And –"

"No more questions, John. She'll be happy to answer when she returns."

"Is she –"

Sherlock eyed him. "No."

"All right!"

"And if she ever was –"

"I … wait, she –"

"Don't bother, Dr. Watson," a voice came from the doorway. "He's always at a loss for words when it comes to me. Irene. Irene Adler." Irene held out her hand to a somewhat dumbstruck John.

"Call him John," Sherlock said.

John was about to agree but Irene spoke over him.

"How do you do it, John? Live with him? We were locked in a closet together once. And that was enough for my lifetime. Oh – and your computer. I've updated the software, installed some lovely anti-virus shields and made it as safe as I could from … well, people like me."

"People … people like you?"

"A hacker," said Sherlock. "Irene is a computer hacker. On both the FBI and MI-5's most wanted lists. She's here getting a doctorate at Oxford."  
>"But –"<p>

"I am amazing at forging documents," said Irene. She went into her satchel. "My newest passport is a gem. I had to rig it with –"

"That's enough, Irene." Sherlock moved from the window and took the passport from her.

"Hey!"

"Mine – until I think you can leave."

"Until you … when did this suddenly become your main problem?"

"When you said Moriarty. You're not to leave this flat without John or myself with you."

"You just sent me –"

"To cover your steps. But now you're in under different pretenses. You need to keep the cameras working. Your loop won't fool them."

"Well, I know that. But it bought us two hours, didn't it?"

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "An hour. At the most. From now. If they didn't notice the clock in the kitchen."

"I moved the clock."

Sherlock looked at her. "You said you didn't move anything."

"Yes. In the fridge."

Sherlock's brow furrowed and he went to fix the clock.

"So … you and Sherlock –"

"Me and Sherlock?" Irene laughed. John smiled awkwardly. "Oh God no. I mean, I did kiss him once but you know how he is. No … we're … I don't know. I can't say friends. I'm one of the only people who've been able to outsmart him …"

"You –"

"He's not exactly technologically savvy and unfortunately for him the hacker he was borrowing was not at all up to caliber. But …"

"I still solved the case."

"But lost me. And the King."

"The … king?"

"His stamp. Hacker stamp," Irene explained. "And did I offend you, Sherlock? Master of the mobile phone?"

"No."

Irene smiled. "I did. Sorry. Smoothie?"

"No. And don't."

"I want one."

"The noise!"

"By the look of those bullet holes in the wall, I doubt a blender would be the least of poor John – or Mrs. Hudson's – ears. As for you. Think of it as retribution." Irene went into the kitchen and began to collect fruit from the fridge.

"I … like her," said John, turning to Sherlock. "You like her, too, don't you?"

"No."

"She said she kissed you."

"In a closet. She thought she was going to die. It was a natural reaction."

"Really?"

Sherlock looked at John, who knew to be quiet.


End file.
